


If only time flew like a bird in the sky

by NotMod



Category: Tokyo Ghoul
Genre: Gen, Sickfic, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-25
Updated: 2015-11-25
Packaged: 2018-05-03 07:38:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5282363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotMod/pseuds/NotMod
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Juuzou isn't feeling too well, but he's been forced to attend a meeting anyway.  This does contain a fairly graphic depiction of vomit, so...</p>
            </blockquote>





	If only time flew like a bird in the sky

Juuzou sat in the leather chair of the meeting room, his cheek pressed against the table and his knees curled to his chest, eyes wandering constantly from his superiors. The investigator wanted the meeting over as soon as possible, though the reason was not his usual boredom. A cold bead of sweat dripped down Juuzou’s forehead and settled on his nose as his stomach grumbled loud enough for him and Shinohara, who was seated next to him, to hear. As his partner gave him a questioning look, Juuzou forced a smile, not wanting to open his mouth.  
Squirming slightly in his seat, he brushed a strand of platinum hair out of his eyes, not bothered to clip it back into place. He slid his arm under his resting head, using it as a pillow of sorts, and frowned almost imperceptibly. His other arm drifted from where it toyed with a seam on the side of his trousers to hold his stomach as it let out another rumble and his gaze flickered up to the clock. Fifty more minutes scheduled he noted with a tiny sigh, hoping they ended early, but knowing that with his luck, that wouldn’t be the case. Letting an exhausted whimper pass through his lips, Juuzou half closed his eyes, eyelids feeling too heavy. Sniffling slightly, he curled into his hand more, vaguely recognizing the warm clamminess of his skin as his eyes slipped completely shut.  
“Suzuya!” barked a sharp voice, making Juuzou sit up straight, blinking quickly. The voice had come from a man across the table. Squinting and gingerly rubbing his side under the table, the young man managed to focus his watery eyes enough to make out Marude’s features. “Pay attention!” his superior snapped and Juuzou leaned forwards a bit.  
“You got it, sir!” he said, trying to mimic his usual tone, though his voice was noticeably hoarse and lacking in energy. Marude rolled his eyes and Juuzou laid his head back on the table, sighing. The more time that went on the worse he felt, his slender body trembling and his head pounding. The discomfort in his stomach grew into a sharp, bubbling pain that slowly made it into his throat, aggravated by every movement and swallow, Juuzou opened his mouth carefully, fingers grasping the edge of the table.  
“Excuse me.” he said slowly, closing his mouth as soon as the words are out, to make sure he wouldn’t throw up. “I’m not feeling good. Can I go?” he asked, lifting his head up as everyone turned to look at him. One man scoffed, and though Juuzou couldn’t be bothered to see who, he turned in his general direction. “What?” the young investigator asked poutily, his voice shaking.  
“Knowing you, Suzuya, you’re probably just trying to get out of a meeting.”  
Juuzou shook his head, an action that he immediately regretted, as it made him a hundred times dizzier. “No…” he argued weakly. “I’m really not feeling good!” he muttered, furrowing his brows. The man laughed. “Of course, of course.” he said in a mockingly apologetic voice and Juuzou crossed his arms. “I am!” he growled, swaying slightly.  
As his opponent was about to open his mouth to argue back, Shinohara cleared his throat. “Juuzou, why don’t you go get a drink and see if that helps.” he said calmly. Juuzou nodded and struggled to his feet, stumbling out into the hall.  
The young investigator made his way to the water fountain, which was, thankfully, only a few yards outside of the meeting room. His stomach gurgled as he walked, but he tried not to think about it. Leaning over the metal spout, Juuzou parted his lips, shivering slightly as the icy water splashed his tongue. A few cold drops trickled down his chin and splashed on his partially exposed chest, startling Juuzou. He abruptly took his hand off the button, stopping the flow of water, and made his way back to the meeting room in a shaky march.  
When Juuzou entered the room, all eyes turned to him. Lowering his head to a bow, he took his seat, pushing the stubborn strand of hair behind his ear and taking his seat.  
“Well, well, well, looks like you didn’t run away after all.” said a snide voice from the other side of the room. Even without looking, Juuzou was sure it was Marude speaking. A few people snickered, but most of the others remained either unimpressed or indifferent.  
“Shut up.” the young investigator mumbled, head down, eyes dull. His voice was low and raspy, unlike his usual high, cheerful tone.  
Now all heads turned to look at Juuzou. People seldom stood up to higher ranks like Marude, and it was even rarer that they used such a rude tone.Yet, at this particular moment, Juuzou didn’t care about the eyes avidly focused on him. He didn’t care that he had just snapped at a senior inspector, or that said inspector would be angry enough to lash out at him later. Pale as a sheet, and shaking from head to toe, the only thing Juuzou cared about was the ability to leave the meeting room, an ability that he didn’t have. Even if he stood up and tried to make a run for it, he’d be chased down by another inspector for sure. Instead of getting up and walking away as he desired, Juuzou sighed and pulled his chair closer to the table and tried to focus on the meeting.  
Marude was talking about some ward Juuzou hadn’t been in, using that annoying, pompous tone of his that almost made the pale inspector want to destroy another of his bikes. Kuroiwa and Shinohara were listening to him, seemingly interested in what he had to say, although Shinohara cast the occasional worried glance at his apprentice. Arima, of course, was nowhere to be found, the seat where he would have sat was empty.  
As Juuzou’s ruby eyes continued their flickering across the room, they fell on Amon and the Mado girl, who gave him a tiny reassuring smile. Juuzou tried to smile back, though the water in his stomach was sloshing around, trying to make its way out of his throat.  
Time ticked on and Juuzou grew increasingly restless, tapping his foot on the ground or twirling his hair between his fingers. He kept telling himself that the meeting was almost over, that afterwards he could rush to the bathroom and bury his head in whatever toilet he needed to, but with at least twenty more minutes left, he knew he would not likely be granted that comfort.  
Feeling a light tap on his shoulder, Juuzou turned around. Shinohara was smiling at him encouragingly, handing him a paper out of a pile that he hadn’t realized had been going around. Juuzou took the sheet between his trembling fingertips and placed it down on the meeting table. In the back of his mind, he noted how much he was shaking and wondered if anyone else had noticed.  
Resuming the tapping of his foot on the polished floor, the inspector once again attempted shifting his focus to the speaker, who was now a man whose name he didn’t know, but as spit began to fill his mouth, he could feel his attention slipping away, knowing and dreading what would happen next.  
Juuzou’s salivary glands were working overtime, and he swallowed to keep the excess saliva under control. Icy beads of sweat dripped down his neck, clinging to his shirt. As bile rose in his throat, the inspector gulped and closed his eyes, fingernails digging into the tabletop. A bubble rose to his mouth, a seemingly innocently belch, but as it pushed past his lips, Juuzou knew it had triggered so much more.  
Within moments, Juuzou was coughing and retching as vomit spewed from his mouth, landing with a sickening splatter on the table and the sheet he had been handed. Some of the warm substance oozed off the table and splashed onto Juuzou’s pants as tears of embarrassment and effort slid down his cheeks. He gasped for breath as his stomach heaved again and again, and his vomit was ejected onto the table until the poor inspector was dry heaving, breaths raspy and uneven.  
Most of the other inspectors had fled to the edges of the room, or else were guarding their precious papers, staring at Juuzou, disgust evident on their faces. Though disoriented, Juuzou was vaguely aware of Shinohara’s strong, broad hand on his back and his comforting murmurs as the rest of the room stared in shock and silence. Gradually, whispers began to fill the air.  
“Is he okay?”  
“Bet he’s faking that too, huh, Marude?”  
“Please, he probably took something to make him sick.”  
None of the comments helped Juuzou feel any better, and he got to his feet, quietly asking the others to pardon him before rushing out of the room, Shinohara hot on his heels.  
When Shinohara reached Juuzou, he was in the lobby, curled up in a chair. There were still traces of vomit in his hair and clothes. Sighing, the elder inspector took the seat beside him. “Are you alright?” he asked, though he was sure of Juuzou’s answer.  
“No.” was the reply, and Shinohara smiled to himself at his apprentice's predictability. He ran his fingers through the young man’s silvery hair in an attempt to comfort him.  
“How about I take you home? You deserve some rest after a spectacle like that.” he said, his voice good natured, and Juuzou looked up, eyes wet, nose running.  
“I’ll only allow that if you carry me to your car.” The young inspector mumbled, his tone taking on a bossy edge. Chuckling, Shinohara lifted him into his arms, letting the boy lazily drape his arms around his neck.  
“Alright, Juuzou.” he said. “Let’s get you someplace you can recover.”


End file.
